The End.
Two little words at the end of almost every story. I love reading them. It means that I can travel to a new place and meet new people, with very little expense comparatively. Plus, I can time travel. Can’t buy that from a travel agent, no matter how much I pay. Being in different places and different times takes me so far out of my reality that I can get through the day to day stress.
Yet, by losing myself in books, I cause myself more stress because I get behind in my day to day responsibilities, which just cause me more stress. I can’t be doing laundry in 2020 while I am France during WWII, it is not possible, no matter how creative I get holding the book.
Rather than stop reading to do my laundry, I stop doing my laundry. It is easier that way until I run out of underwear. Then, the problems begin. I have to put whatever book I am reading aside to do mountains of laundry. While there are 40 minutes between loads, but I can only read through the first two loads because once the first load is dry, the clothes must be folded and put away.